


Last Goodbye

by lod



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Description, I swear there's some in there, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-14 19:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15395934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lod/pseuds/lod
Summary: Ryuji doesn't land in a nearby park after Shido's palace. Akira can't figure out how to keep going without him.Note: Spoilers through 6th palace. Major trigger warning for suicide. This is not M for smut reasons.





	1. A Week Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [canti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canticle) for editing and suffering. <3  
> 

The afterimage was still burned into his retinas as they tumbled out of the Metaverse, spilling onto the sidewalk beneath a streetlight — Ryuji hanging by one hand, silhouetted against the explosion that had apparently pushed them right out of the Palace. Akira shoved himself to his feet, looking for that shock of yellow-blonde hair, counting the bodies around him frantically. Five humans. One cat.

And no Ryuji.

He called out, then, not caring who might hear. Behind him, the rest of the group was beginning to understand what had happened, and he thought he could hear someone crying. He walked away, not wanting to get pulled into their grief. There was no need for grief; Ryuji was around here somewhere, they’d just gotten separated, that was all. It occurred to him that Ryuji might have been knocked out by the impact. He could be lying unconscious somewhere in the dark, alone. Akira’s footsteps grew hastier as he tried to look into every dark shadow, every corner.

He was looking underneath a bush in a nearby park when his phone buzzed in his pocket twenty minutes later, having found nothing so far but rats and a stray cat.

> **Ann** Are you coming back? We should probably talk about what happened…

Akira clenched his fists. Nothing was as important as finding Ryuji right now. Unless… 

> **Akira** Is Ryuji with you guys?
> 
> **Ann** No. No sign of him.

Akira stuffed his phone back into his pocket, then on second thought pulled it back out, calling Ryuji’s phone. The call went directly to voicemail. He’d expected it, but it was still a blow.

He kept combing through the streets of the neighborhood, losing track of time until a small hand landed on his wrist and stopped him.

“Akira…”

He looked back to see Futaba, eyes rimmed with red, pity and grief plain on her face. Morgana sat by her feet, looking no better off.

“I had to use the tracker to find you. You’re more than a mile away from where we came out at this point,” she said softly, carefully. “We should get home for now. There’s nothing more we can do.”

She seemed exhausted, and Akira was barely standing himself. It had been an extremely long day even before the escape from the Palace had gone wrong, a full school day and then the final fight against Shido’s countless forms. He felt himself shaking at the very idea of giving up, though.

Futaba caught his trembling hands in her own. “I tried to use the tracker on him, but his phone’s just… gone. It’s almost 4am, Akira. Let’s get a few hours of sleep, and if everything seems like it went ok with Shido, we can call the police to help us find him in the morning, ok?”

Reluctantly, Akira let her drag him to a larger street and into a taxi.

* * *

 

Akira woke groggily the next morning to his phone vibrating on the windowsill. He was still half asleep as he answered, but Ann’s pained greeting brought the memory of the previous night crashing back into his head.

“Hey, I don’t know how to say this, Akira, so I’m just gonna… Ryuji’s mom just called me.”

“Did he make it home overnight, then?” he asked.

Ann let out a soft sob, and Akira refused to let himself think about what it meant. “No, that’s…. That’s not…” She gulped audibly and continued in a half whisper, “The police found his body in the courtyard of a high rise. It’s being categorized as a suicide.”

The phone fell from Akira’s limp hand onto the floor with a clatter that he didn’t hear. There was a loud ringing in his ears, the world fading to white at the edges, and he felt himself falling, floating away.

Morgana’s loud complaint at being woken up brought him back somewhat. Akira was still in shock; he leaned down automatically to pick up the phone, held it back to his ear without really meaning to.

“Akira?” Ann’s voice was distressed. “Akira, are you still there?”

“I…”

“I’m gonna come over, ok? I’m gonna bring everyone. Don’t move. Don’t do anything stupid.”

She hung up then, and Akira let his hand drop onto the bed, the phone slipping from his fingers. By his side, Morgana yelled at him, asking what had happened, but his head was still filled with an opaque fog that kept his thoughts at bay. He was distantly grateful for it, for the protection it brought. He didn’t want to think about what Ann had just told him. Didn’t want to face the reality of it.

* * *

 

A hand grabbed his shoulder, shaking him, and he emerged from the mist to see Ann staring at him, inches from his face. When she realised he’d seen her, she stepped back, and looking into the tearful faces of his thieves, there was no running away anymore. The realisation that his best friend was gone hit him like a roundhouse kick to the chest, slamming the air out of his lungs and leaving him gasping, shaking.

A single word kept repeating itself in his head. _No. No. No. No._ It was impossible. His best friend, the heart of the Phantom Thieves, the brightest, sunniest of them. He could still recall his laughter the day before, the memory so close he might reach out and grab it. How could he be there one moment and gone the next? How could the sun rise on a world without Ryuji in it? There had to be a mistake, a wrong identification, someone somewhere who’d understood it all wrong and now Ryuji would run through the door, stomp up the stairs as he always did, laughing awkwardly at the error, apologizing for it as though it were his fault, taking the blame as he always did.

But his friends came to sit next to him on the bed, dropping their weight against him, pulling him into the center of a protective circle of arms, and no phone call came, no footsteps. As hands rubbed his back and the sound of soft crying filled the air around him, he felt the last of his denial break apart, giving way to an overwhelming pain that ripped jagged, uncontrollable sobs from his chest. He cried in his friends’ arms until at last, thankfully, he passed out.

* * *

 

It was hours later when he woke up, the sky beginning to fade towards night again. Only Morgana and Futaba remained, the former curled up against his chest while the latter squatted on his desk chair. When she noticed he was awake, Futaba pulled out her phone. Moments later, Sojiro walked up the stairs carrying a plate of curry.

“I thought you might not want to come downstairs today,” he said. Akira sat up and took the offered plate, setting it on his lap. The idea of eating made him want to throw up, though. He looked up at Sojiro, his eyes watering. 

“Ryuji…”

The older man sat on the bed carefully, putting a hand on Akira’s shoulder. “I know. The others filled me in. I’m so sorry, kid.”

Akira tried to hold the tears back, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his wrist. They came running down his cheeks despite his best efforts, spilling into the curry on his lap until Sojiro reached out and took the plate, putting it to the side, before putting a hesitant arm around his shoulders. Morgana climbed up into his lap and Futaba kneeled by his feet, but their presence did nothing to ease his pain.

* * *

 

He spent the next day in bed, fading in and out of sleep, but after that Sojiro forced him to go to school.

“I understand how you feel, but you are not going to move on by staying in bed all day,” he’d said. Move on? Akira didn’t understand. He didn’t want to move on. The thought disgusted him.

School was mostly an exercise in forcing his breathing back to a calm rate, in distracting himself with whatever he could find to stop from crying until he could make it to a bathroom stall, where he’d slide to the floor, head between his knees, hands clamped over his mouth to muffle his sobs.

When he got home, he sat listlessly in his room, books open before him, his eyes glazed over as they drifted unseeing over the text. Morgana’d usually sit with him, but had given up on trying to talk. As soon as Sojiro locked up, Akira would fall into bed, and spend long agitated nights dreaming of Ryuji. The worst nights were the ones where he was alive, where he woke up with a shred of happiness that made the heartbreak as his memory returned all the more painful.

* * *

 

Finally Saturday came. There would be a wake held that evening at Ryuji’s apartment, and then the funeral on Sunday.

Akira stood in his room in the black suit Sojiro had bought for him. It wasn’t as unfamiliar as it could have been — he’d worn suits to his court trial, almost a year ago. He’d thought it was the worst thing that could happen to him back then, being arrested, falsely charged and imprisoned. Now he would spend a lifetime in jail for just one more day with Ryuji, running, eating ramen, just reading manga next to each other if it came down to that.

The wake was as awful as he’d expected. Ryuji’s mom was there of course, as well as all the remaining Thieves and a few people from the neighborhood that Akira didn’t recognize. Kawakami had come too, even though she wasn’t his homeroom teacher; he suspected she was on to the Phantom Thieves. He couldn’t quite bring himself to care about that right now. Ann spent the night sitting on a barstool sobbing into her hands. Akira wished he could join her, but he’d cried himself out by now, like everything inside of him had come out and all that was left was just an emptiness, a hole in his heart the shape of his best friend that nothing else ever could fill.

The funeral wasn’t any better. When the lid of the casket closed on Ryuji’s face for the final time, Akira knew a part of himself was locked under there, a part he was unwilling to live without.

* * *

 

That evening, he waited until Morgana was sound asleep before sliding carefully out of bed, and headed downstairs before activating the app. _Navigating to Mementos_ , his phone called out as the world dissolved around him.

He found himself standing at the top of the escalators, his mask on and heeled boots clinking on the tile floor. Behind him, the entrance to the Velvet Room was guarded by Justine, who tapped her clipboard as she looked at him curiously. The glowing blue door reminded him of his role in this story. The wildcard, he who would save them all from everything. He wondered what would happen once he was gone. It was only idle curiosity, though; he didn’t care to save this cold and thoughtless world. This world that gave only to take away, that had ripped the joy from his life and left behind only this hollow, discarded shell. No, this world did not deserve any more of his suffering.

He walked through the dark hallways and down escalator after escalator, the Shadows around him growing in strength until at last they stopped running away, until they came sniffing at him. But this wasn’t enough yet. He snuck past these until at last he reached a floor where they were strong enough to fit his needs. He wasn’t looking to get beaten up. He wanted to be released, once and for all, from this prison of life.

Finally, he identified a particularly powerful Shadow glowing in the distance and stepped into its line of sight, letting it come to him. The first hit hurt. The second knocked him to the floor. The third left him only a heartbeat to revel in his impending freedom before everything faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll upload the next chapters over the course of this week. Thanks for reading, drop a note if you liked it (...or if you hated it ;) )!


	2. Coming Back To You

Akira’s eyes shot open, and he found himself in a surprisingly familiar environment. The blue lighting and the chains binding his hands and feet were dead giveaways. The diminutive blonde girl screaming at him completed the picture.

“You had to go and die with your task unfinished!? You’re useless, inmate!”

He hadn’t expected to re-open his eyes, hadn’t wanted to, but now that he was here there wasn’t much to be done about it. He rose to his feet and made his way to the entrance of his cell. Justine stood subdued, casting a searching look towards him. She had seen him walk into Mementos alone, after all.

“Is this the afterlife, then?”

Igor chuckled. “This is a place outside of time and space. You may see it as… purgatory, if you wish.”

Igor flipped through the papers on his desk, then pulled one out.

“Here we are,” he said as he signed the bottom of it. “You must be more careful this time if you are to complete your rehabilitation.”

Before he could ask what those cryptic words meant, Akira was shoved backwards by unseen hands, the chains of the Velvet Room’s gates winding around him as he fell down into a profound sleep.

* * *

 

His fingers ran through the soft fur curled against his stomach for a time before the rest of his body followed into consciousness, emerging from the depths of a strange dream. His movements stilled as reality hit him, as it had every morning for the last week. Something seemed different this time, though. He wasn’t quite sure what it was… perhaps the absence of a headache, the way his eyes didn’t feel like they’d been filled with sand, or perhaps just the fact that he was _alive_ when he very clearly should not have been. Akira stretched, feeling some sort of baseless optimism.

When he checked the time on his phone, he about fainted. He had notifications of messages from a handful of people, not uncommon considering his many acquaintances, but right there at the top were 3 messages from Ryuji. He opened them, heart beating so loudly he thought it might wake Morgana up.

> **Ryuji** When are we meeting up to send the calling card?
> 
> Are you still asleep? Omg you’re worse than Morgana.
> 
> Anyway let’s do ramen soon!!!

Akira’s head spun. Send the calling card? Were these just old messages that hadn’t come through? But, no; he remembered reading these before. He frowned, and opened the calendar app on his phone, his suspicions confirmed when he saw the date. Either his phone was completely buggy, or the worst week of his life had just been wiped away.

Afraid of the hope that was rising in him, he rushed downstairs, not even bothering to change. Ignoring Sojiro’s pointed glare, he looked up at the TV. No, it was there too. It was two days before they’d infiltrated Shido’s ship. Akira couldn’t believe it. He ran back upstairs, throwing himself on the bed with his phone in hand, ignoring Morgana’s outraged growl.

> **Akira** We’re sending the card tomorrow, Futaba’s setting things up.
> 
> Are you busy today? Let’s hang out.
> 
> **Ryuji** I thought you had some Shoji thing going on with Hifumi?

Shit. He did. Well, she’d understand if he had to cancel last minute.

> **Akira** Turns out she’s busy. Ramen and arcade?
> 
> **Ryuji** Ok, be there in 20!

Akira rolled onto his back, grinning like a fool. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it, but he’d been given a second chance, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

They spent the entire day together; Akira made curry in the evening, and they sat in a booth in the cafe laughing late into the night. Belatedly, he remembered that he’d spent the evening making lockpicks the previous time. He didn’t regret his choice of plans, though. Time with his best friend was worth far more than some extra equipment and gemstones.

* * *

 

Sending out the calling card went smoothly. The fight against Shido was harder this time; Akira kept getting distracted by what he knew was coming next, and without him the others lost direction. Somehow, they made it through with everyone in relatively good shape, and before he knew it Akira was running from the explosions that threatened to sink the boat as they had last time. There was little time to think, but he ran ahead, not bothering to listen to Futaba’s cries about not knowing how to swim, or Yusuke saying the lifeboat was too far. He wasn’t as fast as Ryuji, but he’d bought himself a few extra seconds and he was sure he’d make it in time.

He threw himself down the side of the building, jumped over the water, ran up the deck, just as he’d seen Ryuji do last time. The boat swung out, and the moment it did, he let himself drop to the water below; he knew what was coming if he held on to that handle too long.

He hit the water painlessly, just as when he’d thrown himself through the Casino’s window; the Metaverse somehow made it possible to pull off impossible tricks. Unfortunately, that didn’t extend to letting him walk on water. The cold water rushed into his clothes, and he shivered before realising he had a much bigger problem than temperature. His heavy leather coat and baggy pants were weighing him down, trying to drag him below the surface of the ocean, and with the choppy waves he was barely managing to stay afloat. 

At last, he saw that they’d gotten everyone onto the boat and were on their way over to him, Ryuji leaning over the side of the raft in much the same fashion he had when their roles had been reversed and yelling, “Hang on!”

He tried to swim in their direction, but it was all he could do to stay in place.

They’d nearly reached him when a particularly large wave pushed him back closer to the ship, leaving him with stinging eyes and a mouth full of salty water. He choked, tried to spit it back out while pushing his way closer but couldn’t seem to get anywhere. The raft wasn’t faring much better, not making any headway against the waves, and he was at the last of his strength. He started to feel himself drift, unable to put up any more of a fight. Ryuji must have noticed, because he jumped up, pulling off his belt and dropping his mask into the boat before jumping into the water, swimming towards Akira.

Ryuji was halfway there, cutting through the water efficiently in his skintight suit, when the unthinkable happened. A piece of the boat, blown apart by the ongoing explosions, fell right where he’d been, throwing up a wall of water. When the splash cleared, Ryuji was nowhere to be seen.

_No. Nononono NO! Not again!_

The words beat against the inside of Akira’s skull as he found his strength, managed to drag himself to the place he’d last seen Ryuji. He saw the glint of his spine armor and reached for it, but there was only a single dented metal segment floating in the water, probably knocked off of Ryuji’s suit by the impact.

By then the raft had at last managed to reach him, and he felt strong hands pulling him from the water. When Yusuke and Makoto let him go he stood, using the higher vantage point to look for his best friend, but he barely had time for a quick glance before the Metaverse spat them back out into the real world.

They didn’t have the luxury of hope this time. Haru saw him first, and promptly threw up on the sidewalk. They all turned towards her at that. Ann screamed and put her hands over Futaba’s eyes, while Makoto and Yusuke stood to the side, holding each other’s arms and shaking.

Akira stared at the nightmare before his eyes, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Ryuji’s body was half leaning against a mailbox, his head bent at a grotesque angle. Empty eyes stared out of his face, and his jaw was gaping wide, blood still dripping from his mouth. His legs were twisted the wrong way, and his right arm… his right arm was missing, the flesh torn, shattered bone sticking out.

He didn’t even realise he was running until he found himself in a dark alley, panting for breath. He didn’t have to think twice about it this time, didn’t even try to conceal what he was doing as he stepped into Mementos.

* * *

 

“Send me back further,” he begged desperately when he found himself face to face with Igor once more.

“I cannot,” the long-nosed being replied. “The furthest you may go back is one week from your original death.”

So Akira found himself waking up in bed to Ryuji’s text messages again.

* * *

 

It was harder to act carefree on his day off with Ryuji that time. It was even harder to see him die again.

And again.

And again. 

Akira couldn’t stop, though, couldn’t give up. He tried strategy after strategy, changing where they went in the Palace, how they attacked, who was in the lineup, what time they went in, what day they went in, but it always ended with the same empty space in the Phantom Thieves roster.

The worst attempt was the time he managed to keep them from going in at all. The plan hadn’t been easy to pull off. He’d had to figure out how to hack Futaba’s computer to keep her from successfully sending out the calling card. Since he had only a single night to study every time the world rebooted, it had taken at least five or six attempts before he’d managed to figure out enough to stop her.

The next few days had passed easily, and Akira had felt himself relax; yes, Shido was still around, but he would take a world with Shido and Ryuji in it over one with neither.

Then Ryuji’s mom had called him, hysterical as she yelled about armored police coming to take Ryuji away. It was one thing to see his friend die quickly before his eyes, and quite another to imagine him being tortured to within an inch of his life, beaten and drugged in an interrogation room as he’d been. Akira escaped to Mementos the moment he hung up. He didn’t head for the lower floors, that time; he let the weak shadows close to the entrance beat him slowly to death, each painful hit a reminder of the pain he’d caused Ryuji with his mistake.

* * *

 

Despite the grief that had become a permanent part of him, Akira always made sure to spend that first day with Ryuji. He stuck to their usual hangout spots at first, then took him to places they didn’t usually go. Roller coasters at Dome Town, shopping in Harajuku, a ride on the boats at Inokashira Park.

When he’d exhausted even these options, he started getting more creative. He brought Ryuji to a baseball game. That one was hard to coordinate; he had only a single day, after all. Luckily, stealing hearts was a fairly lucrative business, and he was able to buy some front-row tickets off a scalper. When Ryuji asked what he’d done to deserve this, he made up some lame excuse about Sojiro having won the tickets and not wanted them. Ryuji was too captivated by the game to notice how unlikely that was.

Every time he came back, he treated Ryuji to more and more extravagant outings. He wasn’t sure when he started consciously thinking of them as dates. What he was sure of was that he’d been doing so unconsciously for much longer.

His love wasn’t something that had come barreling in, knocking down the door and forcing its presence on him. It had been more insidious, sliding in through the cracks, creeping down the hall and up the walls, taking him over so slowly, so steadily, that by the time he realised what had happened it was woven through every fiber of his being.

Every time, he loved him a little more, and every time, his death hurt a little more.


	3. One Day For You

Akira was beginning to fall apart. He’d been reliving the same 3 days for at least a year by now, seeing his best friend, the love of his life, dying over and over in countless ways. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, but he couldn’t stop. He knew it was pointless. He’d started to suspect it after the tenth or so time that his actions failed to change anything, although it had taken dozens more before he admitted it to himself. The last vestiges of hope had been dispersed by Caroline, tactless as ever. “You know you can’t save him, right?” she’d told him, voice full of scorn. His anguish must have shown on his face, and she’d yelled at him gleefully, slamming her baton across the cell bars. “People’s destinies can’t be overwritten once they’ve happened! I thought you were smarter than that!”

So he’d given up hoping for more than release from his own grief, but even that was denied to him. Everytime he died, he showed up in the same cell, was thrown back to the same morning. If destinies couldn’t be overwritten, why did he keep waking back up?

The twins ignored him in the Velvet Room these days, showing their disappointment in their own ways, Justine tapping her clipboard against her hand with a look of cold disapproval, while Caroline just sneered at him in disgust when she deigned to look his way.

This time, though, as Igor pulled out the now ink-covered page from his papers, Caroline spoke. “When are you going to stop this stupid game!? You can’t die in the Metaverse!”

“My sister speaks out of turn, but she is not wrong. What do you seek to accomplish, inmate?” Justine added. “One as special as you cannot so easily be extinguished in this world.”

Their words were still with Akira when he awoke. They seemed to hold the key, the answer he’d been looking for, but he couldn’t find the correct way to look at them. He thought about it as he spent a distracted day playing shogi with Ryuji, while they sent out the calling card, during the dreadful school day he’d lived through way too many times, but it took until they were entering the Palace to finally click. “You can’t die _in the Metaverse_ ,” Caroline had said. And Justine had echoed her phrasing, saying he wouldn’t be so easy to kill “in this world.” That was it. That was what he’d been looking for. If they’d insisted on that condition, then it begged the question. What would happen if he died in the real world?

* * *

 

He dragged himself through the Palace yet again. Shido was an easy boss now that he knew every trick and every attack he would try to pull, but this time, he let Shido take him down without fighting back, ignoring the other Thieves yelling at him. He knew what he had to do, but he had one last thing to take care of before he could go through with it, and that required going back, one last time.

* * *

 

Caroline jeered at him when he woke up. “We weren’t clear enough?”

“Hurry up and send me back,” he said shortly. Now that he finally had something to act on, he didn’t want to waste another minute.

* * *

 

The implications of what he was about to do weren’t trivial. He understood by now that even though Akechi was gone, without him to lead the Phantom Thieves against Shido, the politician would continue to grasp more and more power until the whole world was his. He supposed he ought to feel guilty about that, but he’d seen too much pain and suffering over the last year to spare the emotion. This indifferent world, it wasn’t worth saving.

He asked Morgana to go spend the day with Futaba, bribing him with the prospect of sushi, then called Ryuji as he did every Sunday morning, and asked him to meet him at the station by Shujin. Ryuji was surprised by the choice of destination, but as always, he trusted Akira blindly and unquestioningly.

* * *

 

Ryuji was already at the station when Akira arrived, leaning against the tiled wall with his eyes closed, headphones in his ears and foot tapping out an intricate rhythm on the floor. Akira took advantage of the moment to study him freely, not from side glances as he usually had to. He was beautiful, despite his best efforts to hide it. No amount of unflattering sweaters and clashing colors would be able to hide the elegant lines of his body. His calves showed beneath the hem of his baggy shorts, toned without being bulky, and Akira burned with the sudden urge to run his hands along the lines of those muscles.

Most people saw Ryuji’s spiky blond hair and tagged him as a rebel, some sort of though punk to be afraid of, but if they’d only taken a moment longer to look at his face, they’d have seen it stood at complete odds with that image. He had refined features; not dainty, not girly by any means, but graceful, each element in perfect harmony with the others.

Ryuji opened his eyes, biting his lip as he searched the crowd, and Akira’s heart flipped in his chest.  How had it taken such a tragedy for him to see his feelings for what they truly were? It seemed unthinkable that he had gone months by the boy’s side without realising he loved him.

Putting a smile on his face, he waved to Ryuji as he walked over. He was equal parts anticipation and anxiety over what was to come that day, but underlying all that was the inescapable knowledge of what would happen in two days, and it was a conscious effort to drag his thoughts away from it, to act as though nothing were wrong.

After an enthusiastic hug, Ryuji asked, “So, what did you want to do around here?”

Akira took Ryuji’s hand in his, feeling him jolt at what was to him an unexpected touch. He didn’t draw away, though; always that complete trust. Akira pulled him up the stairs and to the exit. All his awareness seemed to be concentrated in his hand, in the smooth palm that pressed against his, in the soft skin beneath his fingertips, and he desperately wanted to rub his fingers along that skin, but no, not yet. It was still too soon for that.

He led them a bit away from the station until they reached his first destination, a storefront with a wide awning.

“Remember this place?”

“Uh… Sorry dude. You know my memory’s not as legendary as yours.”

Akira smiled.

“It’s where we met.”

“Oh,” Ryuji turned to look at the store and the street. “Oh yeah, I remember now! ‘Cause of that asshole Kamoshida.”

“I’m glad we met, even if it was because of him,” Akira said, squeezing Ryuji’s hand.

Ryuji flushed a bit, running his free hand over the back of his neck. “... Me too.”

* * *

 

Akira pulled him along, heading down the familiar route that had brought them to school every day. When they made it to Shujin, Ryuji raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s Sunday, the school’s closed. Should we even be here? You’re supposed to be...y’know, dead.”

“Eh, nobody’s gonna be checking for students today. Not like it’s the first time I sneak in.”

It was true; he had the key for the back door that Makoto had given him last summer in his pocket. But... Akira got a wild glint in his eye and, dropping Ryuji’s hand for the first time since they’d met up, pulled himself up onto the gate with a one-handed flip. Ryuji stared, then burst out in his loud, communicative laugh.

“You’re such a damn drama queen, I swear.”

Akira reached a hand down to pull him up. As soon as they were inside, he grabbed Ryuji’s hand again, who made no move to take it back, only shot a questioning glance in his direction that Akira ignored. They made their way to the rooftop and settled down on some discarded chairs.

“It’s been a while since we last hung out here,” Ryuji said, tilting his chair back.

“Yeah. I think the last time I was here was... “ Akira thought, “Oh, right. Third wheeling with Ann and Shiho right before summer break.”

Ryuji snorted.

“I hung out with Ann quite a bit while Shiho was in the hospital, so I thought this would just be more of the same. I had no idea I was gonna end up standing in the corner while Shiho confessed her love to Ann…” Akira sighed heavily while Ryuji laughed.

“Those two are so gay for each other, you should have guessed what was gonna happen!”

Akira turned to Ryuji. “You know, I actually thought _you_ had a thing for Ann in the beginning.”

“ _Me?_ ” he squeaked.

“Well, yeah. You kept talking about how pretty she was, and you were always ogling her, it’s not that big a stretch to think you were into her.”

“Oh man, no way. I mean, I ain’t blind, she’s gorgeous, but… she’s not my type,” he said, looking to the side with a slight blush that made Akira want to dig further. “I think that’s why we became friends in the first place. Seemed like every other guy just wanted to date her.”

“Not your type? So, what is your type then?” Akira couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. He thought he knew; still, it would be nice to get some confirmation.

Ryuji’s ears were bright red, but he was having none of it. “So why are we here, anyway?” he asked, such an obvious subject change that Akira had to suppress the urge to laugh.

He shrugged, then opened his bag, pulling out two wrapped breads and some juice cans he’d picked up in Shibuya station on his way over. He tossed one of each to Ryuji.

“When I first moved here, I thought I’d just spend a year trying to hide in the shadows, give no one any reason to notice me, and go home. The best I could aim for was being ignored. Then my arrest record got leaked and even that seemed too much to hope for. I was ready to have a miserable year… and despite all that, you decided you were going to be my friend the very day you met me. Didn’t give me a chance to say no,” he chuckled, “so… you know. Thanks. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t think the Phantom Thieves would even exist.”

Ryuji choked on his bread at those words. “What? Uh, pretty sure that’s you, not me.”

“Nah, I would never have gone back in by myself after that first day. You’re the one who figured out it was the app bringing us in and activated it. You _wanted_ to go back, too. Even without a Persona to defend yourself, you were the braver one.”

Ryuji was blushing at the compliment, awkwardly looking away, and Akira took pity on him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you just wanted to see me in that kickass outfit again,” he added with a Joker-level sly smile.

Ryuji huffed at him and swatted his arm, laughing. “Sure, who wouldn’t love those sexy _leather harem pants_?”

...Wait, what. Ryuji didn’t think Joker’s outfit was good-looking? Akira felt strangely hurt at that; he thought he looked amazing in it. Ok, the pants _were_ a little baggy, but it wasn’t that bad, was it? His disappointment must have shown on his face, because Ryuji reached out to pat his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. Your red gloves more than make up for the weird pants.”

He was obviously just saying that to make Akira feel better, but it was still nice to hear. He was often fiddling with his gloves in the Metaverse, but it might be a good idea to be a bit more deliberate about it next time. _Next time_. His heart fell as he remembered what would happen then.

“Hey,” Ryuji was looking at him, concerned. “I’m sorry, I was just kidding! Your costume is definitely the coolest one, and you can barely tell the pants are baggy beneath that awesome coat!”

Somehow, he’d been enjoying his time with Ryuji so much that he had forgotten why he was here, doing this, right now. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he forced a joking tone, teasing Ryuji about the silver nipple buttons on his own suit.

* * *

 

Their next stop was the arcade. This time, Ryuji didn’t even flinch when Akira took his hand as he led him there. They spent a few comfortable hours playing a variety of games; Ryuji loved everything from first person shooters to rhythm games. Akira was more into RPGs, himself, but after spending some 8 months hanging out with him he’d learned to love the arcade. They were evenly matched in general, although Akira had the upper hand when it came to gun-based games, and Ryuji was unbeatable at DDR. When they had exhausted both their energy and their supply of coins, they stumbled back out onto Central street.

“You hungry yet?” Akira asked.

“Hm? Yeah, but are you sure you don’t have to go see anyone else? Don’t want to hog you all for myself.”

Ryuji knew about the many people he relied on to keep the Phantom Thieves running, so the question didn’t come out of the blue, but Akira still felt a pang of guilt at the fact that his best friend didn’t think he deserved a whole day with him.

“Not today. Let’s go to Ogikubo?”

“Alright!”

* * *

 

While they sat at the counter waiting for their ramen, Akira reached out and interlaced his fingers with Ryuji’s. He was running the risk of Ryuji asking what he was doing at this point, but despite the way he stiffened at Akira’s actions, he said nothing.

“Excited for some noodles sliding down your throat?” Akira asked with a smirk.

“...Oh my god, don’t bring that up again.”

“Hey, that was like, Yusuke levels of suggestive phrasing. I’m never letting you live it down.”

Shit. Bad wording. Akira shoved down the painful thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. The day had been nearly flawless, and he wasn’t going to ruin it now.

The ramen came, and Akira let go of Ryuji’s hand to eat. When they were done eating, before Akira could pay, Ryuji put a hand on his, stopping him.

“Hey, Akira? Is there a reason you took me here? We… don’t usually do so much stuff in one day.”

Akira bit his lip. “Well, we’ve had a lot of important conversations here, so it seemed like the right place.” That wasn’t even remotely subtle, and Ryuji looked like he was going to ask about it, but Akira didn’t give him time to. “Just one more stop, ok. Then it’ll all make sense, I promise.”

Ryuji seemed dubious, but didn’t push the issue further, letting Akira pay and guide him away again. Night was beginning to fall by then, and by the time they made it back to school the last rays of sun made the world feel a little more cozy, more intimate.

“School again? Dude, gonna start thinking you’ve been replaced by Makoto!”

Akira ignored him, continuing on to the back door Makoto had given him the key to. No point risking being seen a second time. Once inside, he led them to the hidden patch of grass that Ryuji had once called his secret training spot, then turned to face him.

“I don’t know if you remember, but when I was helping you deal with the track team, you said something to me here once.”

Ryuji tilted his head, waiting.

“You said that being free was how you felt when you were talking to me. And I guess I was too dumb and too afraid back then to realise the truth, so I acted like I didn’t know what you were saying.” Akira could see Ryuji shifting out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t make eye contact, looking at the floor, the school walls, anything but him. “But I do get it. I feel free with you, too. And uh, I really hope you meant it at least somewhat the way I do, because otherwise this is gonna be seriously awkward.”

And then, without giving himself time to chicken out, he stepped forward, cupped Ryuji’s face with his hands, and kissed him. His lips were warm and his face soft under his fingers, he smelled faintly of ramen from this close, and it was absolutely perfect.

Or rather, almost perfect; because after the initial rush of adrenaline passed, Akira realised Ryuji wasn’t kissing back.

He pulled back, mortified, his thoughts running wild. Had he misread the signals? Had he pushed himself onto his best friend, who was going to _die_ in two days with this as his last memory? How could he be so dumb? 

“Shit, Ryuji, I’m so sorr—”

Before he could finish the sentence he was flat on his back on the ground, Ryuji’s arms around him, a hand cradling the back of his head, and Ryuji’s lips on his were hot and heavy and insistent and through the kisses Ryuji was laughing and crying.

Akira tried to kiss back, but he couldn’t hold back the wide grin spreading across his face. He was also running out of air; in this position, it was impossible to ignore how much more muscular — and heavy — Ryuji was than him.

“Can’t—breathe—“ he wheezed out, and Ryuji immediately pulled himself up on his elbows, looming over Akira, red-faced and nearly as out of breath as he was.

“Sorry. Got a bit carried away there… but don’t you dare apologize for kissing me. I’ve been waiting _months_ for you to do that. You took your time!”

“...How long?”

Ryuji rolled over, lying down next to Akira before he replied.

“Hmm… Since the first day. On the roof after school. I mean, you were so freaking hot in that Palace _and_ you saved my life, that would have been reason enough. But then we go back to the real world and you’re this adorable shy perfect guy who ignores Kawakami’s warnings and actually comes to the roof to see me? I didn’t think for a moment you were going to. No one else in school was even talking to me at that point, and you just… trusted me. Accepted me right away. I was a goner the moment you walked through that roof access door.”

Akira turned to look at him. “Really? So what was all that with Operation Maidwatch and the constant girl hunts at the beach, and looking at Ann like you wanted to have her for dinner?”

Ryuji rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. “Yeah, that was really dumb, wasn’t it? It’s just … when I realised you weren’t interested, I was afraid I was gonna be too obvious. That you’d find out about my crush and not want to spend time with me anymore. I was terrified of it to be honest, and I figured if I acted like a totally stereotypical straight dude you wouldn’t catch on.”

“So straight dudes spend all their times objectifying women?”

“Well, kinda seems like it!”

“... I guess I can’t argue all that much,” Akira said with a sigh. The sun had finished setting and it was getting cold, so he pushed himself to his feet and reached a hand down to Ryuji.

“This is as far as I had planned, actually. But if you’d like, maybe we could go back to the cafe…?”

It was strange, feeling shy about inviting Ryuji back to his place like he hadn’t been there a hundred times, but exciting as well, and when Ryuji nodded, Akira felt like a fire had just been lit inside of him.

* * *

 

Sojiro had already closed the cafe by the time they made it back, so they had the place to themselves. Ryuji dropped onto a bar stool and checked his phone while Akira made them coffee. It was a bit late for that, really, but he wasn’t planning to get much sleep that night. He had so little time.

He couldn’t believe he could have had so much more. That Ryuji liked him, he’d suspected, or at least hoped for. That he’d liked him since the first day was a shock, though. He’d never remotely pushed Akira, had always smiled and joked at his stories about the various girls who’d asked him out. He’d never complained when Akira had less time to spend with him as the group grew, either.

A single day was too short to ever catch up to these missing months, and although having Ryuji return his feelings was everything Akira had wanted, it also made facing what was coming even harder. He would let himself forget that for just one more night, though. Leaning across the bar, he pressed a kiss to Ryuji’s lips, enjoying his startled squeak, then came to join him, his own coffee in hand.

They talked of inconsequential things, but Akira couldn’t stop looking at Ryuji’s eyes, at his lips, at his hands, and he caught Ryuji doing the same. Finally, when they’d cleaned and dried their cups, Akira reached for Ryuji’s hand one more time, and pulled him up the steps. He knew he couldn’t make up for lost time, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

* * *

 

The next day went as it usually did, with the exception of waking up with blonde hair pressed against his cheek. Akira let himself enjoy these last few moments before the storm; Ryuji would wake up soon and head home, and that would be the end. He wanted to keep him there, but Ryuji didn’t know what was coming, didn’t realise this was their last chance together. So when the time came, rather than begging him to stay, he settled for giving him a passionate kiss goodbye, one that held all his love and grief and pain, and was rewarded with seeing a beet-red Ryuji step out of the cafe.

It was hard not to let himself fall into despair after that, but Morgana was back and there was sushi to go buy, final plans to put in place for the Palace. Part of him wanted to just not care, but he needed to make it out of the Palace alive for his plan to work. And even if this world was over for him, six Phantom Thieves would live on; he owed it to them to do his best against Shido. Ryuji had died for this, would die for this. Akira had to make his sacrifice worth it, at least.

The fight against Shido went well despite Akira’s growing nerves. He’d only managed to steal a few more kisses from Ryuji, and he knew he was coming up on his last occasion. He’d decided to let Ryuji act freely this time, as he had that first time so long ago. To let him go out in a bright bang, as a hero. But a moment before he could run, Akira reached a hand out, grabbed his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“I love you,” he whispered in his ear, knowing it was his last chance.

Ryuji froze, blushing and stammering. “Uh, I, um… I love you too.”

He knew he’d rushed it a bit, but between rushed and never, Akira would take rushed. He rested his forehead against Ryuji’s for one last heartbeat, then spun him back towards the raft. “Now go out there and save us all.”

Ryuji turned back, flashing him his trademark shark-toothed smile, gave a thumbs-up. “Alright!”

And although none of what happened after that was a surprise, although he’d seen it happen dozens of times, Akira still felt the light in the world go out when the explosion took Ryuji.

* * *

 

Akira wasted as little time as possible once they got out. After everyone had accepted that Ryuji wasn’t coming back and began to head home, he changed paths, telling Futaba he needed to check something about Shido at the Diet Building. She wasn’t dumb; she most likely knew he wanted to be alone for a bit, but hopefully it would buy him enough time for what he had to do.

He walked down the street until he found a particularly tall building, and let himself in using one of his lockpicks. Then it was only a matter of taking the elevator to the last floor, and picking the service stairs’ lock to get onto the roof. The wind was stronger up here, and he shivered as he walked to the edge.

Tokyo’s ever bright downtown spread out before him, a tapestry of light and sound, all so distant now. He didn’t belong here anymore, didn’t want to belong here. He’d thought he might hesitate once he found himself up here, but now he found that he felt only impatience. His reason to live was gone. There wasn’t any point dragging this out.

He dropped to a seat, letting his feet dangle over the 200 meter drop. His heart was beating fast against his will, and although he wanted to just push off and be free at last, he felt that traitorous animal mind of his screaming its fear of death, of the unknown, evolution beating against his muscles and immobilising him where he sat. 

He thought he might cry or scream in frustration, but before he could do anything, he felt a presence inside of him.

_ You seem greatly troubled, my liege. _

The voice was one he hadn’t heard in a long time, but still it was familiar, warm and reassuring.

“Arsène?” he said out loud, “are you here?”

_I am always with you_ , the voice answered, and suddenly his Persona floated before him, great velvety black wings beating slowly in the air.

“But I thought I … fused you,” Akira said, confused.

There was a deep, throaty chuckle in his mind.  _ I am your rebel’s soul, the manifestation of your true heart. Though I cannot fight by your side at the moment, you would not be so easily rid of me. But tell me, Wild Card. Why is your heart so filled with darkness? _

“You don’t just know everything I know?” Akira was surprised by that.

_ I feel all your emotions, your thoughts. Something terrible has happened, something that has broken your heart. Yet you do not allow yourself to think on it, and so I cannot see it. _

“It’s Ryuji. The Chariot.” Akira bit back his tears, dug his nails into wrists to keep from breaking down. “He’s dead. He’s dead and no matter what I do he’s gonna keep being dead and I can’t live without him, Arsène. I don’t want to live without him.”

Despite his best efforts, tears had still found their way into his eyes, and he bit his knuckles, trying desperately to keep them from falling down his face.

_ No matter what you do? _

“I keep reliving the last few days. Every time I die in the Metaverse, Igor sends me back to Sunday morning.”

_ Ah. That explains the turmoil and confusion I have been feeling. _

The Persona disappeared from the sky, and suddenly an arm was wrapped around his shoulders, a great wing folding around him and shielding him from the world. The touch broke down the last of his resolve, and he burst into shuddering sobs against Arsène’s shoulder. It was odd, being comforted by his own Persona, but also strangely soothing, like the Persona knew exactly the right way to hold him, knew him almost better than he knew himself. 

After some time, his tears dried, his mind clearing a bit. Enough for him to realise this was a strange situation; he’d never seen a Persona outside of the Metaverse before.

“I didn’t realise you could come into the real world.”

_ I am you, and you are me. Wherever you go, I go. However, I can only manifest myself outside of you in the Metaverse. Here, another would not see me, only you.  _

“If you’re me… what happens to you if something happens to me? What happens to all my Personas?”

_ All those you have won over to your cause will fade back into the background noise of the Metaverse, to be spun out into new Shadows as humans’ twisted hearts give rise to them. _

“But what about you?” Akira insisted. “I didn’t convince you to join me, you were here all along.”

_ As I said. Wherever you go, I go. _

“But that— that means this would kill you.”

_ I am not sure I can be said to live, but yes, my existence will be interrupted the day that yours is. _

“I can’t make that decision for you!”

Arsène unfolded his wings, leaving Akira feeling strangely cold and lonely, and rose to float before him once more.

_ It is much simpler than you think. I am you, Akira. Your joy is my joy and your pain is my pain. I want what you want, at the very heart. Up until now, what your heart has wanted was to keep fighting. But you have fought, haven’t you? You have fought a hundred battles, and you have lost as many. You have accepted every piece of your heart, carefully put them together and shown them to the world, and found the world’s reply lacking. If it were not what you truly wanted, I would carry you away from here, and give you the strength to fight on. But this is what you have chosen. _

Arsène reached a hand out, and Akira took it.

_ Sometimes, it is ok to lay down your weapons. To stop fighting and to accept your own decision. Come, Wild Card. Let us face your freedom together. _

Akira stood and stepped forward into his Persona’s arms without hesitation. The wings closed back up around him, and they fell together in this final embrace.

As the world rushed away, Akira smiled. For the first and last time in over a year, he was at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to end here, but _some_ people yelled at me, so there's an extra chapter.


	4. A Lifetime With You

Akira found his way back to reality in bits and pieces, the dull roar of wheels on tracks fading in first, followed by a foggy window coming into focus, the subdued hum of voices completing the picture. There were peculiar images in his mind, of deep blue velvet and a butterfly, but when he reached for them they broke apart like gossamer threads, leaving only a nostalgic feeling of tender affection behind. Conscious thought came back, and he remembered now; leaving his hometown, getting on the train to Tokyo, heading to his new home and to the one school that had accepted him on probation. Overlaying that memory, though, was a stranger and darker one, a memory of death, of dark angels spreading wings across the sky, of love and loss and acceptance.

The train rumbled into the station, and his confused thoughts were interrupted by more mundane concerns as he checked his phone for directions, bought subway tickets, and made his way to Yongen-Jaya. By the time he had a moment to himself again, sitting in the dusty attic that would be his bedroom, all he could remember was that there had been something strange about the train ride, but nothing more.

The next day was innocuous enough, going to complete his registration at school, but he couldn’t shake an unsettling sense of deja-vu. The jail cell in his dreams that night didn’t help him feel more at ease, and when a girl reached into his hair under a store awning on his first day of school, he saw the image of the sakura petal in her hand before she’d drawn back. She left and was replaced by a loud blond boy that set off alarm bells inside of him, like heavy handed foreshadowing in a movie. _Pay attention. This one is going to be important._

He figured the school turning into a castle had something to do with it. He wasn’t anywhere near as surprised as he should have been by the bizarre apparition; it was as if some unconscious part of him was expecting all of this.

It all suddenly made sense the moment he ripped off his mask, face wreathed in blue flames as Arsène walked out behind him. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and a door unlocked in his mind; a battle just like this one remembered, then many others, and at the end of it all a fall. There was a gap there, though, a great swath of time redacted, only one sunny fall day with a familiar blond boy standing unerased. Before he could even formulate the question, the powerful voice replied.

_Did you think I would not protect you, even from yourself?_

The cryptic reply did little to explain where these new thoughts had come from, but a groan cut through, calling his attention back to the present and reminding him that he still had someone to save. No, not just _someone_ , he realised. The most important person in his life. Akira threw himself at Kamoshida’s lackeys, saved Ryuji and escaped, the past superimposed on the present until he wasn’t sure what was then and what was now. But the monsters kept coming, and then there was Morgana to meet, a castle to escape, an incongruous school day to get through, and no time to question those visions of a past future.

That evening, Akira sat on his bed, trying to make sense of his thoughts. He’d lived this probation year out before. He’d made friends, fought monsters, and it had all gone rather well despite setbacks. There was a hazy image of an interrogation room, but they’d kept going, so it must have turned out alright. And then something had happened, something he wasn’t being allowed to remember, and for some reason he couldn’t quite make sense of right now, he’d let himself fall from the roof of a skyscraper. Hesitantly, he spoke into the empty air.

“Arsène?”

The presence was there as soon as he called on it.

_Yes, Wild Card?_

“Why am I remembering this entire year like it already happened?”

_Because it did, for you at least._

“Then… what happened in December?”

Unseen feathers brushed at his cheek, taking shape before his eyes until Arsène sat next to him on the bed, his otherworldly size incongruous against the attic’s backdrop. There was a pause before he answered.

_I will give those memories back to you in due time. Please allow me to protect you just a short while longer._

Arsène pulled him into his arms, and Akira let himself be held, the long clawed hand surprisingly soothing as it rubbed his back, lulling him into sleep.

* * *

 

Ryuji awakened his Persona the next day. Akira had been too afraid for his life when this had happened to really notice what was going on, but he didn’t miss a drop of it this time around. Seeing Ryuji writhing on the ground in pain wrenched at his heart, but when he raised that masked face, fiery eyes set deep in shadow, Akira gulped audibly. That was a good look on him. _A really good look._ If he had seen it last year, their first kiss would definitely not have waited until December….

Akira spent the rest of their time in the Castle trying desperately not to stare at Ryuji’s body sheathed in skin-tight leather. It was both a relief and a disappointment when they finally got back to the real world, and to more … appropriate clothing.

Ryuji took him to the beef bowl shop afterwards, where Akira let his food get cold watching him talk. His eyes kept darting to his lips, to his hands, and back away again. It took him until they were on their way out to remember something Ryuji had told him.

_Since the first day. On the roof after school._

That was what he’d said, when Akira had asked how long he’d liked him. And maybe it was too much to hope for, that this timeline would follow that other one, but Akira couldn’t hold himself back. Didn’t want to. He turned to Ryuji and let his eyes glide over him, down and back up, just the barest hint of heat in them. “You don’t look too out of shape, for someone who’s not running track anymore.”

Ryuji’s shocked expression and red cheeks made him want to grin, until Ryuji said, “When did I tell you about the track team?”

Akira winced. It was a problem he hadn’t thought of, but he’d need to be careful to keep the details of what he should and shouldn’t know in order.

“I, uh… heard someone mention it between classes?”

Ryuji kicked at the floor. “Figures. People can’t get enough of gossip, even months later.”

All his good humor was gone. Akira cursed himself for ruining the mood as Ryuji began heading off towards the train station with his head hung low. He hurried to catch up to him, and laid a hand on his arm.

Ryuji paused. “What’s up?”

“I heard there’s a movie theater around here.”

“Mhmm? It’s just a little further down this street, actually.”

“Do you think you’d… want to go there with me sometime?”

Ryuji jerked up, staring at Akira. “Like, a d—” he started before interrupting himself with an embarrassed chuckle and dropping his gaze again. “Oh. Cause you have no other friends here. Right. Yeah, sure, I’ll go with ya. Actually, school lets out early tomorrow because of the volleyball rally, we could go then?”

“It’s a date,” Akira replied as he dropped an arm around Ryuji’s shoulders, ignoring his sputtered denial.

* * *

 

Spending the free time after the rally talking to Kamoshida’s abuse victims got Akira more and more on edge, until he felt like he might snap. If things went well, they’d take Kamoshida down in the Metaverse and end all of this, but in the meantime there were students walking around school with bruises and bandages and _everybody knew_. Everybody knew and no one was doing anything. It made him want to scream.

He tried his best not to let his mood show through as they made their way to the theater, but the battered students’ protection of Kamoshida kept running through his head.

When they got there, Ryuji hesitated in front of the ticket counter.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t wanna anymore, y’know.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t seem like you’re really happy to be here ‘s’all.”

Akira shook his head. “No, I am…I just can’t get those bruises out of my head. I can’t believe that all these people know what’s happening and not one person’s tried to stop him. Drives me crazy thinking it’s probably going on right now.”

It wasn’t just the bruises, either. He knew what was going to happen to Shiho tomorrow in Kamoshida’s office, and what she would do the next day.

Wait. _He knew_. What the hell was the point of knowing what the future held if he wasn’t going to _do_ something about it?

“Actually, do you think we can go somewhere quiet? There’s something I need to talk with you about. We can go see the movie another time, promise.”

“Uh, sure. What about the diner?”

* * *

 

They chatted idly about their day while they waited for their drinks, talking about Ryuji’s Persona, Shadow Kamoshida and the creepy cognitive Ann they’d seen. Finally, the drinks came, two sodas, and Ryuji leaned his arms on the table.

“So, what did you want to talk about? Sounded serious.”

Akira toyed with his straw, unsure of how to broach the topic, and Ryuji tapped his foot against Akira’s under the table.

“You there?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just that even with everything that’s been happening to us lately, this is going to sound a little crazy.”

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not gonna run off on you!”

Akira smiled softly at Ryuji’s loyalty. “Thanks. This is probably going to be confusing and a bit hard to believe, but … give me the benefit of the doubt.”

Ryuji motioned for him to go on impatiently.

“If I’m not mistaken and things go the way I expect them to, Shiho’s going to get asked to go to Kamoshida’s office tomorrow.”

“Shiho Suzui?” Ryuji interrupted, “Like, Ann’s best friend Shiho?”

Akira nodded.

“You know her?”

“Like I said, this might be confusing.”

Ryuji leaned back in the booth seat. “‘K, I’ll let you finish... so Kamoshida’s gonna call her in, then what?”

“If she goes in there, he does things to her. Things he shouldn’t do to anyone. And she… she’s never the same after that.”

“Things?”

Akira bit his lip, unwilling to elaborate, and Ryuji’s eyes widened as he understood. “What?!” he shouted. “We have to go to the police! It’s one thing trying to pass off beating up students as ‘rough practice,’ but there’s no way they can ignore sexua—”

“Ryuji.” People were beginning to stare.

Mollified, he lowered his voice, but the angry look on his face didn’t change. “We can’t let him get away with that!”

“And we won’t. We’re gonna stop him with the Metaverse, but we can’t do that fast enough for her. We can’t tell the police, either; it’s not like I have concrete evidence. Not that I trust them, anyway…”

Ryuji looked angry, tapping his fingertips against the table. “Fine. So we gotta stop her going to Kamoshida’s office tomorrow. Hell, that doesn’t sound so hard. Why don’t we just tell her not to go? He’s too afraid of his perfect reputation to risk being seen forcing her in there.”

“I don’t think that’ll work. Remember how all those guys reacted when we asked them to tell us about Kamoshida. The school, other students, even their parents, all of them are keeping their mouths shut. Basically telling them, your safety matters less than our reputation. I mean, Mishima just went back to practice when Kamoshida told him to, and you saw how beat he looked! I think if we told her, even if she believed us — and that’s a really big if — she’d still go.”

“I effing _hate_ that you’re right,” Ryuji said, slamming his fist on the table. “We’ve gotta get her away from school then.”

“That’s what I was thinking, but how?”

“What if you ask her for tutoring or something? Bring her here”

“I’m the scary transfer student who killed someone, remember? I doubt she’d go along with it.”

“Shiho’s not the type to listen to rumors.”

“Even so, we’ve never actually met. A guy she doesn’t know asking her to hang out off campus is probably gonna trigger some warning signals.” That, or she’d think he was trying to hit on her, which Akira had multiple reasons to want to avoid.

“I guess I could ask her. God knows I have a legitimate reason to ask, and we used to be friends back in middle school, so it wouldn’t be that weird. I haven’t talked to her since the incident with Kamoshida, though…. Hey, that reminds me. I never actually told you what happened with him. Is that something else you already know about?”

Akira nodded.

“I know you said this would be weird, but it is _so weird_ , dude. What else do you know!?”

What was he supposed to answer to that? This all made no sense to him. He felt like he was supposed to keep this a secret, like telling someone else would somehow force things to unfold as he recalled them, leaving him a puppet robbed of all free will. He wasn’t exactly following what his memories told him, so clearly that wasn’t the case yet; and at the same time, every moment of his life right now felt like it was overlaid with a narrator describing what he had done in the other year, and he felt a pull to settle back into that track, to obey the voice. It was confusing and awful and giving him a terrible headache.

“I don’t understand it any more than you,” he replied, rubbing a palm over his forehead. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about it or what it even means. I’m just trying to take it one day at a time… but I can’t ignore this. If what I think happens, and I didn’t even try to protect her, I don’t think I could live with myself.”

Ryuji looked solemn. “Yeah. You’re right. We’re not letting that asshole break anyone else.”

“So, you’ll catch her right after practice and take her out of school?”

“Yeah. What if she says no, though?”

“I suppose I could wait by the P.E. faculty office, make a commotion if I see her coming? I don’t think he’ll try anything with me around.” Akira didn’t want to antagonize Kamoshida, but if memory served, that would be happening regardless of his actions, so he might as well put it to use.

“I don’t like the idea of you putting yourself in danger like that. He broke my leg, who’s to say he would hesitate to hurt you?”

“I’d rather put myself in danger than her. At least I know I’ll fight back.” Ryuji still seemed worried, so Akira added, “Don’t worry. I can defend myself!” He rolled his sleeve up to the shoulder and flexed, bending down to kiss his, to be honest, rather inexistant bicep.

Opposite him, Ryuji was staring at his arm with flat-eyed contempt. “Once we get this shit figured out, you’re coming to workout with me. Cause dude, that’s just pitiful.” He rolled up his own sleeve and flexed, defined muscle bulging.

Akira reached for his drink and gulped it down. For some reason, the air in this cafe had suddenly gotten much warmer….

* * *

 

Surprisingly, their plan went off without a hitch. Shiho agreed to accompany Ryuji to the diner, accepting his fairly weak excuse of not wanting people at school to make fun of him for studying. Akira did have to explain his presence to Kamoshida when he rushed out of the office in a rage, but he seemed to believe him when Akira said he’d been looking for the library and gotten lost. In the end, the worst part of it all, according to Ryuji’s text messages that evening, was having had to actually spend the whole afternoon _studying_.

Despite that, Akira didn’t let himself relax until the end of school came the next day and he saw Shiho walking down the hall, smiling. It didn’t mean she was safe, but it looked like it had worked for now. They’d been planning to deal with Kamoshida as quickly as possible to make sure she stayed that way, but their hand was forced when Ryuji got into a shouting match with Kamoshida.

Akira had wondered if the changed events meant that they wouldn’t end up with the threat of expulsion hanging over their heads, but it seemed that was inescapable. Ryuji had come across Kamoshida in a hallway as they were walking out, and wasn’t able to control his anger. He’d muttered an insult at him under his breath that wasn’t quite low enough, Kamoshida had heard, and things had escalated until Akira had to hold Ryuji back as he tried to throw a punch at the teacher. As expected, the next step had been Kamoshida threatening them with expulsion.

At least the day had a redeeming aspect, in that it featured Ann unlocking her Persona. When Akira finally made it home, he was exhausted. It had been a very long day, and his headache still hadn’t abated, the double images of his current and previous life still twisting together inside his head.

He sat on his bed and leaned his head back against the wall before calling his Persona. Arsène appeared instantly this time, not speaking into his mind first.

“The memories. They’re always there, always this slideshow of what could be, what should be, making me question my every action. It’s like there’s two Akiras in my head and they’re going to pull each other apart. I feel like I’m going mad.”

Arsène tilted his head to the side, his oversized top hat nearly knocking over a stack of books.

_I did not foresee the harm these would cause you. I can take them back, but I believe before I do so, I should return those which you are still missing._

“December?”

_Yes._

Arsène reached out, gripping Akira’s hands in his, clawed fingers carefully held away from soft flesh.

_These will not be easy to face. Please prepare yourself._

Akira wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do that, but before he could spare it any more thought, the blanks in his mind lifted . He physically reeled as images flashed through his mind; Ryuji’s death, and then the same 3 days repeated over and over, blurred into a confusion of friendly dates and bloody battles that spun in his mind and threatened to make him sick. Still, he felt gaps remaining, small pockets of emptiness. He knew what had happened during them; he recalled his thoughts, his sadness. The scenes themselves, however, were missing.

_Do not ask, little one. These, I will not return. They broke you once. They would break you again. I will not send you down this new path shackled down by past traumas._

A new path. That sounded nice, but he remembered one fateful conversation in the Velvet Room, sticking out from the hundreds of other visits, a sharp spot of pain amidst a sea of despair.

“But there’s no point in trying again, is there? Caroline. She said I couldn’t change a fixed destiny.”

_That was true then, yes. But I am not so certain the rules hold true in this brand new world. Have you not changed a destiny already?_

Akira was confused. He’d changed a destiny?

Shiho.

She was supposed to throw herself off that roof. She hadn’t died, but the injuries had stolen months off her life, in hospital beds and physical therapy sessions, and she’d probably always walk with a limp, never be able to play sports seriously again. That wasn’t even factoring in the emotional damage Kamoshida had caused her.

And they’d stopped that. He’d stopped it.

“But something could still happen! What if I only delayed the inevitable?”

_I am not a seer, to foretell the future. I do not know what it holds. But would you wallow in despair, or face the world with hope and courage?_

Akira wasn’t sure he had it in him to face the world with hope and courage. Not with all these memories crowding his head, shouting at him every step of the way that he was headed for certain ruin. Perhaps without them, he could try. Perhaps he could make things better this time. Yet if he let go of his memories, how would he know to alter his path? What would save him from meeting the same terrible end?

Despite this he knew he had to give the memories back, had to give up a part of his past to better live his future. In a sense, he wasn’t even giving them away; simply entrusting them to a stronger part of himself for safekeeping. He and Arsène were but two sides of the same coin, after all. And if Arsène was him, then there was one more thing he could trust him with.

“I can’t live with these memories. But before you take them away, there’s one thing I want to ask of you, if you don’t mind.”

_I am ever your faithful servant._

“You would protect me from all the evils of the world. Even from myself.”

Arsène hummed in agreement.

“Ryuji. The Chariot. For all that we stand apart he is as much a part of me as you are, a piece of my heart living outside of my body. Promise me that you will protect him with your life. Protect him with _my_ life. Without him, I cannot live.”

_I promise._

What those words, Arsène pulled Akira to his chest and closed his wings up over him, cradling him like a child. Akira clung to him, the closeness of the Persona calming his heartbeat, easing his apprehension.

_Are you ready, Wild Card?_

Would he ever be truly ready? Perhaps not. But for Ryuji, he would fight against all odds, brave every danger and reject every fear. He bowed his head to his Persona’s chest, let his eyes drift shut and recalled, one final time, a December afternoon with a glowing golden boy.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this last bit was hard to write! Hope it took away some of the pain of the other chapters, anyway :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [thermopylod](https://thermopylod.tumblr.com/)!


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